


Possessed

by Lbilover



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Backstory, Demonic Possession, Gen, Horror, Mild Gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lbilover/pseuds/Lbilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Lorna and Auntie Whispers meet, and how Lorna comes to be possessed by an evil spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possessed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shusu (Sameshima_Shuzumi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sameshima_Shuzumi/gifts).



> To my requester, I hope this meets your request for a plot that goes from Point A to Point B, although it ends where the episode 'The Ringing of the Bell' begins. I was intrigued by your suggestion of a story about Auntie Whispers and Lorna before, and very much hope that you will like the back story I invented for them. As for Auntie Whispers first name, it popped into my head and stuck. :-)

Miralda Whispers never imagined adopting an orphan girl, but she had reached an age where it was no longer as easy to keep up with the cooking, cleaning and sewing as it had been. And a girl might, she thought wistfully, provide companionship as well. She didn't like to admit it, but she was sometimes lonely.

And so one bright June morning she tied on her best bonnet, wrapped herself in a fine cotton shawl, and drove to the orphanage, a bleak stone building on the outskirts of town that even in summer held the profound chill of midwinter. 

"Good day to you, Mistress Whispers." The orphanage director, a man as stony and chill as his institution, bowed obsequiously to her. He knew her, of course. Everyone did, for she was, in a word, unforgettable. "How might I be of assistance?"

"I am looking for a modest, hardworking girl to help me around the house," Miralda said with a decision that she didn't quite feel in her heart. 

The Director rubbed his hands together with a sound like the rustle of dry leaves. "I have no doubt that we can accommodate you, Mistress Whispers. All our children, I am happy to report, are modest and hard-working. Do you require a girl of any particular age?"

"An older girl," Miralda replied, for she had given the matter some thought. "Perhaps thirteen or fourteen."

"Of course. If you will be so kind as to follow me..." The Director bowed again and led her away.

The older girls, about twenty all told, were at their sewing, sitting on stools in orderly rows, their heads bent diligently to their tasks. As Miralda and the Director walked among them, they didn't raise their eyes from their darning and the silver flash of their needles never faltered. But a girl at the end of the second row caught Miralda's notice by the speed and accuracy of her nimble fingers. 

When they reached her, Miralda halted. "And what is your name, child?" she asked. 

The girl looked up. She was pale-skinned with dark hair, quiet features and neat hands. "My name is Lorna, mistress," she said softly.

"May I see your work?"

"Yes, mistress." Lorna handed her the shirt she was darning.

Miralda inspected it critically. Lorna's sewing was exceptional, the stitches impossibly tiny and precise, more fitted to the silken robes of royalty than the coarse linen of an orphan's dress. 

"You are an excellent seamstress, Lorna," Miralda said, returning the shirt to the girl. She smiled, well aware that her smile was more apt to invoke terror than delight, but Lorna appeared not at all afraid of her. 

"Thank you, mistress," she said, and smiled shyly back.

The soft sweetness of Lorna's voice and demeanor touched Miralda's heart, and all doubts fled. She would adopt Lorna.

And so it was that when Miralda drove away from the orphanage, Lorna and the small bag that held her pitifully few possessions were seated beside her. Lorna didn't speak, other than to respond 'Yes, Mistress' or 'Nay, Mistress' to Miralda's questions. But Miralda noticed that Lorna never once looked back, and she breathed deeply of the warm June air and a little color came into her too pale cheeks.

~~~~~~

Within a week Miralda found herself wondering how she had ever managed before Lorna came to live with her. Not only was the girl a diligent, reliable and conscientious worker, as the Director had promised she would be, but Lorna's sweet temper and gentle nature soon became as indispensable to Miralda as her skill at cooking, cleaning and sewing. 

Indeed, such was the ease and companionship between them that one evening a few months later, as they sat by the fire drinking tea, Miralda said, "You can call me Auntie Whispers, child."

Lorna burst into tears of joy.

But Miralda's growing affection for Lorna came at a cost. She discovered that she was afraid as she never had been afraid in her life before. Afraid of losing Lorna. She was old, Lorna was young. She wouldn't remain with her Auntie Whispers forever. Girls grew up; they fell in love and married. One day Lorna would meet a young man and she would leave. And when she did, she would take Miralda's broken heart with her.

~~~~~~

One morning in December Miralda said to Lorna, "Put on your cloak and bonnet, child. We are going to pay a visit on my sister Adelaide."

When they were seated in the trap, the pony trotting briskly through the winter-brown countryside, Lorna said, "I didn't know you have a sister, Auntie Whispers."

"Just the one," Miralda replied, "and that is quite enough. Adelaide and I are not close, but I visit her each Yuletide and bring her a fresh supply of yarn. She is older than I am and doesn't go out that much anymore."

Adelaide's home was a small stone cottage surrounded by fallow wheat fields and covered in ivy. Its back was to the woods and a hoary dark tree loomed above it. Lorna found it frightening, nothing like the house she shared with Auntie Whispers. 

Even more frightening to Lorna was the woman who opened the door to them at Miralda's knock, a queer looking old woman in a pointed black hat adorned with flowers.

"Good morning, Adelaide," Miralda said. "I hope you've been keeping well."

Adelaide didn't return her sister's greeting; instead she said in a shrill voice, "You took your sweet time getting here, sister. I've nearly run out of wool." Her gaze turned to Lorna. Her eyes reminded Lorna of a doll's eyes, flat and unfriendly. "And who, pray tell, is this?"

Miralda, seeming unperturbed by Adelaide's rudeness, handed the basket of wool skeins to her sister. "This is Lorna. She lives with me now." She went on, "She is an accomplished seamstress, Adelaide. I thought she might enjoy seeing your handiwork."

Lorna followed Miralda into the cottage, and when she crossed the threshold a low gasp of wonder escaped her lips. it was like stepping into another world. Every square inch of the walls and floors was covered in patterned tapestries, rugs and quilts. Fabric was draped across the ceiling, giving the interior the appearance of an Arabian Nights tent. A large, ornate bed dominated the room, and it was covered by a magnificent quilt.

" _You_ made all of these, ma'am?" Lorna was surprised into speaking out of turn, something she rarely did. But it was hard to believe that a crotchety old woman had created objects of such beauty. Then she blushed at her rudeness.

"Of course I made them," Adelaide snapped, sounding offended. Then curiosity appeared to get the best of her. "What do you think of them, child?"

"Why, they're marvelous," Lorna replied, a note of wonder in her voice as she turned round and round. 

Adelaide appeared somewhat mollified by Lorna's response and made no objection when Lorna asked if she might take a closer look. While Lorna wandered around the room admiring the hangings and examining the intricate embroidery, Adelaide and Miralda sat a table with a pot of tea and shared the sort of stiff, awkward conversation more suited to total strangers. 

Their visit was nearly over when Miralda made the greatest mistake of her life. She made it out of her love for Lorna, but bitterly did she come to regret it. She took from her pocket a muslin handkerchief that Lorna had embroidered for her as a gift and showed it to Adelaide.

The workmanship was exquisite, Miralda's initials entwined with intricately detailed leaves and birds. 

"Lorna made this," Miralda said proudly. "Is it not beautiful? I believe she sews an even finer stitch than you do, sister."

Adelaide's eyes grew cold as the pits of hell. Her claw-like thumb and forefinger flicked the handkerchief away and she said dismissively, "I'd call it adequate but nothing more." She got up abruptly from the table. "I'm tired, Miralda. It's time you were leaving."

"I don't think your sister liked my sewing, Auntie Whispers," Lorna said sadly as they drove away.

"On the contrary, child," replied Miralda. "I think she liked it too well." She sighed. "I ought to have known she would be jealous." 

Precisely how jealous Miralda had no inkling, but could she have seen Adelaide's face, twisted and ugly with her jealousy, as she watched them from the window, she would have understood, and been afraid. Had she seen Adelaide later in the forest, summoning The Beast to her aid, she would been downright terrified.

~~~~~~

The next morning Lorna went to the pond to gather some of the black turtles that her aunt liked to eat. As she was returning to the house with her heavy bucket, she saw Auntie Whispers gesture to her from the eaves of the forest. Lorna didn't hesitate; she set down the bucket and went to join her.

"Come with me, Lorna," Auntie Whispers said, crooking a finger. 

Lorna felt a queer sensation, almost like a tug beneath her breast bone. But she followed willingly, trailing after the bulky shape of Auntie Whispers along a winding path that led deeper and deeper into the woods. She rarely went into the forest, and never alone. Auntie Whispers had warned her that wild beasts roamed there and it wasn't safe. This was the farthest she had ever gone.

The woods were quiet and dim and untidy, and Lorna sensed unfriendly eyes watching her. Yet in the company of her dear aunt, she did not feel afraid.

"Where are we going, Auntie?" Lorna asked, and her voice sounded weak and almost lost.

"Just a little farther. We're nearly there." 

'A little farther' turned out to be a small clearing surrounded by peculiar looking trees of a kind that Lorna had never seen before. They were twisted and gnarled and their crooked branches blocked out the sun. She wondered why on earth her aunt had brought to this strange and ominous place.

She soon found out. 

Auntie Whispers halted in the middle of the clearing and smiled. Something about that smile turned Lorna cold. It was nothing like her aunt's usual smile, but thin and false. "Such a trusting child. Such a foolish child."

"Auntie?" Lorna said, bewildered, and then her pale face went chalk white with terror. For before her eyes, Auntie Whispers vanished, her familiar features morphing into those of another woman, with a pointed black hat and boot button eyes: Adelaide.

Adelaide laughed, a witch's cackle that sent a chill down Lorna's spine. "'Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly'. And so you have, and fallen neatly into my trap."

"I don't understand, ma'am. Why have you brought me here?" 

"Tut, tut, child. You must call me Auntie Adelaide. After all I am Miralda's sister." Her syrupy sweetness was even more frightening to Lorna than her cackle. "As for why I have brought you here, it is to give you a gift."

"A g-gift?" Lorna stammered, even more bewildered.

Adelaide took a stoppered glass vial from her pocket. The clear glass was filled with a substance that looked like swirling gray smoke. "Oh yes, a very special gift indeed for a special child, courtesy of the beast of the eternal darkness. Are you ready to receive it, Lorna dear?" Her eyes glinted with malevolent delight as she worked the stopper free with her thumbs.

Lorna wanted to run, but her slippers seemed rooted in palce. The stopper popped out and fell soundlessly to the leaf-strewn ground. From the vial flowed a thin column of gray, shapeless and indistinct. It rose into the air, and as it did it began to coalesce, assuming a vaguely human shape with sharp teeth gnashing in a grotesquely twisted mouth and eyes that were like windows into the pits of hell. Lorna let out a cry and stumbled back as the smoke-creature loomed above her.

Finally she turned to flee, but it was too late. The evil spirit descended on her like a cloud, engulfing her completely. 

And then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone, and Lorna left standing there, apparently unchanged. Then she coughed, and the faintest trace of pale mist emerged from her lips and quickly dissipated. 

"Time to go home now, child," Adelaide said, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Miralda will be wondering where you've got to."

Lorna ran as fast as she could, but she couldn't outrun the evil spirit that now dwelled inside her.

~~~~~~

"You're late back, child," Miralda said when Lorna entered the house carrying the bucket of black turtles.

"The turtles were slippery and hard to catch this morning," Lorna lied. It was the first time she had ever lied to Miralda.

"Well, empty the bucket and come and sit down. The tea is ready."

Lorna poured the turtles from the bucket into one of the large wicker baskets lined up near the wall and joined Miralda at the table. "I'm not hungry, Auntie," she said, when Miralda offered her a slice of cake. 

"Are you feeling well, my dear child?" Miralda asked. "You aren't sickening for anything, are you?"

"Nay, Auntie." Lorna forced herself to sip some tea, but only by imagining it was a cup of blood.

Lorna's latest embroidery project, a fine woolen shawl, lay on the chair beside her. Normally she picked up her work whenever she sat down, but somehow the very thought of touching a needle and thread repulsed her. 

What had Adelaide done to her? She wanted to scream and cry. She wanted to tell Miralda what had happened, but she couldn't. The monster living inside her wouldn't allow it. It was in control now. When she looked at her dear aunt, a horrible craving came over her. She saw her not as the affectionate woman who had adopted her and treated her with such kindness, but as a thing of flesh and blood, to be attacked and eaten. It was terrifying. But with what strength remained to her, Lorna resisted the evil spirit's clamoring, and the love she felt for Miralda Whispers proved strong enough to hold it at bay - only just.

~~~~~~

Miralda was growing increasingly concerned about Lorna. The child had not been herself since the morning she was late back from the pond. She was even quieter than usual and had given up her sewing, saying her eyes were tired. But what worried Miralda most was Lorna's cough. Lorna claimed that she felt fine and the cough was nothing, but after it continued unabated for a week, Miralda said, "You need a doctor, Lorna. I've asked Doctor Pryor to call this afternoon and examine you."

A queer gleam came into Lorna's eyes then, but she bowed her head and said meekly, "If you think it's best, Auntie Whispers."

When Doctor Pryor arrived, Miralda showed him into the parlor, where Lorna was waiting. 

"Now, Lorna," the doctor said jovially. "Miralda tells me that you've developed a bit of a cough. I'm going to take a look at you and see if I can figure out why. But I wouldn't worry. I very much doubt it's anything serious." He set down his bag on the table and removed his coat.

Lorna said, sounding worried, "Does my aunt have to stay in the room, Doctor?"

"But Lorna, wouldn't you prefer me to stay with you?" Miralda asked in surprise.

"Nay, Auntie. If it turns out to be something bad, you'll be so upset. I couldn't bear that."

"Well, if it will ease your mind and make you more comfortable..."

"It will, Auntie."

"Very well, Lorna. I'll leave you and Doctor Pryor alone."

Miralda paced anxiously up and down the hallway outside the parlor, certain now that something _was_ seriously wrong with her dear Lorna, else why would she have asked her to leave the room? 

Suddenly she stopped in mid-stride as a ear-splitting shriek rent the air, followed by terrified screaming. "No, no, please don't!" a voice begged. It was Doctor Pryor's voice. Another shriek rose but was abruptly cut off and silence fell.

Miralda, frozen in place with horror, suddenly came to life and ran for the parlor door. She flung it open and the sight that met her eyes would remain with her until her dying day. Lorna crouched over a pile of bones and a gleaming skull amid bloodied shreds of clothing; all that remained of Doctor Pryor. His bones had been stripped completely clean of their flesh. 

"Child, what have you done?" Miralda wailed.

Lorna raised her head. But it was not Lorna who looked at her. It was a monster, a rapacious, gloating creature. Her dear girl's face was hollow, her eyes sunken, her teeth lethal, jagged spikes. Yet even as Miralda stared, the monster retreated until it was again _her_ Lorna's face, pale and composed.

"I'm sorry, Auntie Whispers," Lorna said sorrowfully. "I didn't mean to be wicked."

"Oh Lorna." But Miralda hardened her heart. "Maybe you didn't mean to be wicked, child, but you were wicked, very wicked. We will talk about this later, but we cannot leave poor Doctor Pryor lying here. You will have to pay for your wickedness by helping me with him."

In grim silence they did, carrying his remains down to the cellar and then returning to the parlor to scrub away the bloodstains. When they were done, Miralda said, "What has happened to you, Lorna?"

"I don't know," Lorna replied, but her eyes flicked away as she spoke and Miralda knew she was lying to her. And that was a worse betrayal than anything else.

"And have you done this to others?"

"Nay, Auntie."

Again her eyes flicked away.

"Come with me, Lorna," Miralda said, and for a moment a look of such anguish appeared in Lorna's eyes that it stunned her. But Miralda knew what she must do, and without delay, so she turned away from Lorna's anguish and led her to her bedroom. "Go inside and remain there until I return, child. I must go into town and see someone."

"Yes, Auntie." With downcast head, Lorna went inside and sat down on her bed, her hands dangling limply in her lap.

It was on the tip of Miralda's tongue to tell Lorna not to call her 'Auntie' anymore. But what had happened wasn't Lorna's fault, and somewhere inside the real Lorna, her sweet, gentle child still dwelled, she felt certain.

"I'm going to lock you in." Her voice was harsh, for this hurt her more than it hurt Lorna, and Lorna's head drooped even lower.

Turning the key in the lock felt like a betrayal, but the echo of Doctor Pryor's terrified screams reminded her precisely why it was necessary. As Miralda left the house with the key safely stored in her pocket, grief at last overcame her and hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

~~~~~~

She returned several hours later and many coins poorer, but she had what she needed. There was a man in town who dealt in magical objects - if one knew where and when to find him, and Miralda did. She now had in her possession a brass bell, fashioned in Lorna's shape and embued with her essence from a single hair that Miralda had brought with her.

When she unlocked the door to Lorna's room, she found Lorna sitting exactly where she had left her, except that she had exchanged her bloodied gown and apron for fresh ones. 

How was it possible, Miralda wondered, that this sweet, gentle child had slain Doctor Pryor? Or had she dreamed the entire, horrific event? But no, it had been no dream, no nightmare. Lorna was possessed by an evil spirit, and it was up to her to hold the spirit in check.

"Lorna, look at me," Miralda ordered. When Lorna did, she raised the bell. "Tell me what happened to you, how the wickedness got inside you." She rang the bell; it drew and held Lorna's gaze, her eyes going wide and blank as one hypnotized. "The ringing of the bell commands you."

In an obedient monotone, Lorna told her, every ghastly detail of her encounter with Adelaide in the forest. 

"And is Doctor Pryor the first person you've killed?"

"Nay, Auntie. There are two others, a peddler who came to the house selling his wares, and a cowherd who asked for a drink from the well. I buried their bones in the cellar."

Miralda rang the bell again. "Show me where you buried them. The ringing of the bell commands you." 

As they returned to the cellar with a shovel, Miralda's anger at Adelaide was great, but even greater was her anger at herself. _This is my fault. I never should have bragged to Adelaide about Lorna's sewing. Pride goeth before a fall, they say. The blood of Lorna's victims is on my hands, too._

Lorna uncovered the remains, buried in a jumble in a dark corner. "You will stay here and sort these bones, Lorna," Miralda said. "And after that, I want you to clean the hearth and sweep and scrub the floors upstairs until they shine."

"Yes, Auntie," Lorna said, and coughed.

"I'm sorry, child, but the only way we can keep the evil spirit at bay is through hard work. Do you understand?"

Lorna coughed again. "Yes, Auntie."

Miralda left Lorna to her sorting and trudged wearily up the stairs. She had a means of keeping Lorna's wickedness under control, but the comfortable, contented life they had shared was over and the road ahead was dark, with no light at its end. 

But at the same time a small voice in the back of Miralda's mind whispered seductively, _Lorna will be with you always now._

~~~~~~

The next morning Miralda used the bell to set Lorna to a string of tasks so that she could drive to Adelaide's cottage and confront her sister with her treachery.

"Be careful, Auntie Whispers," Lorna said.

"I am not afraid of Adelaide, child. On the contrary, she should be afraid of me." She fixed Lorna with a hard stare. "You must not rest while I am gone, Lorna, but work at the tasks I have set for you."

"I promise, Auntie."

"You know I do this for you, to keep you from wickedness."

"Yes, Auntie."

She left a forlorn Lorna kneeling by the hearth with brush and pan, and as she drove, Miralda's anger at her sister built and built. She descended on the cottage like a storm cloud, and burst inside without knocking.

"How could you do such a thing to my Lorna?" she demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Adelaide replied. "If something is wrong with your serving girl, it's none of my affair."

"Don't lie to me, Adelaide. Lorna told me precisely what happened. Is your jealousy of her so great that you must destroy her?"

Adelaide's eyes snapped. "Jealous? Of that puny child?"

"Tell me what you promised him, sister," Miralda said with an ominous calm. "In exchange for the spell and the spirit."

"What I promised to whom?" asked Adelaide evasively.

"To The Beast."

"Nothing." But her head involuntarily jerked toward the right, and Miralda saw that a section of the wall was now bare of covering. One of the tapestries was gone.

It was a shocking sight. "But those hangings are as your very flesh and blood," she exclaimed, and indeed each contained a part of Adelaide herself, a part that had now been given into the possession of The Beast. Only then did she understand the true depths of Adelaide's jealousy and vindictiveness, and most bitterly did she rue her part in rousing them. "Safeguard well the ones remaining," she said, "for they are the only family you have left."

"What do you mean, Miralda?" For the first time, Adelaide seemed afraid.

"I mean that I am finished with you. You will have no more visits from me, nor any wool or thread."

"But I am old and need your help," Adelaide said, a pleading note creeping into her voice. "Surely you won't put a lowly orphan girl above your own family?"

Miralda went cold as ice. "Lorna _is_ my family now." And she departed, leaving Adelaide to her quilts and her tapestries and her rugs.

~~~~~~

Over the next two years, Miralda managed to keep the evil spirit inside Lorna under control, for the most part. A second visit to the purveyor of magic bought her a spell that cast a glamour over the cottage, so that to an outside observer it would appear an empty ruin. 

She worked Lorna hard every day and she forbid any and all visitors. But it was impossible to be with Lorna every moment and equally impossible to prevent an occasional unwary stranger from stumbling across the apparently abandoned cottage and attempting to take shelter inside. And so the piles of bones in the cellar to be sorted grew and grew, and the sorting took Lorna longer and longer. 

Lorna never again set hand to needle or thread, and her coughing continued unabated. Her life was one of confinement and drudgery, yet deep down inside her love for her dear Auntie Whispers held sway and kept the evil spirit from turning her wickedness on her protector.

~~~~~~

"Lorna child, I'm going into town for an hour or two," Miralda said, putting on her heavy cloak against the rain that fell outside. "While I'm gone I want you to sort the bones." She took the bell, which was never out of her reach, from her pocket and held it up. "The ringing of the bell commands you," she said, and swung it back and forth.

"Yes, Auntie Whispers," Lorna replied.

When her aunt was gone, Lorna went down to the cellar, which had now become a crypt, crowded with skulls and ribs and femurs and shin bones. She set to her sorting, working in darkness alleviated only by the light of a single guttering candle. When she was in the grip of the evil spirit, she had no awareness of what she was doing. It was only when the spirit retreated that she saw the stripped bones and bloody shreds of cloth with her own eyes.

She understood why Auntie Whispers made her repeat the grim task so often. It was both punishment and penance, to face the consequence of her actions and never forget why the wickedness needed to be kept at bay. And yet, the evil inside her only rejoiced at every new set of bones and lusted after more. She coughed, expelling a thread of pale gray mist. Would it ever end, she wondered.

Lorna sighed and set the last skull in place. The empty eye sockets stared blindly into the darkness. She had no idea which of her victims it was. They were too numerous now to tell. Sadly, she blew out the candle and made her way back upstairs.

"Auntie, Auntie," she said as she pushed the door at the top of the stairs open. "I've finished sorting..." Lorna let out a sharp breath as if she'd been struck a blow on the breast. 

Two boys, one about her age and another much younger, were in the house. They'd started a fire on the hearth and lit candles around the room. The older boy was wearing a pointed red hat and a blue cloak; the younger had an upside down teapot on his head. She had no idea where they'd come from, but they looked as startled to see her as she was to see them. 

"Who are you?" Lorna asked. She wanted to tell them to leave this house of horrors at once, to flee while they still could. But she didn't, for the evil spirit inside her stirred to life and laughed with delighted anticipation. 

_Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly,_ it whispered in her ear.

~end~


End file.
